


The Horrible Fate of Bootstrap Bill

by KickAir 8P (KickAir8P), KickAir8P



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-04
Updated: 2003-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KickAir8P/pseuds/KickAir%208P, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KickAir8P/pseuds/KickAir8P
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill couldn't swim a stroke. Like most seamen, he considered it no use but to prolong a lost man's suffering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Horrible Fate of Bootstrap Bill

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this right after I saw the first movie, so completely AU to the sequels. Thanks for fact-finding help to unmisha, gryphonrhi, sinanju, and beeej.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is piracy, we don't need no stinkin' disclaimer --- oops, wrong movie. Pirates of the Caribbean is not owned by me, and I'm using these characters without anything even vaguely resembling permission. Since I have more debts than loot, it's useless to sue me.

It was barely more than a minute before the light was gone, swallowed by the water overhead. No knowing how long it took to reach the bottom, but by that time Bill had the tough, wet leather of the bootstraps almost sawed through with his second holdout knife. The mass of the cannon settled in without a sound, and Bill lit down lightly beside it.

Which left him standing free in the muck of Davy Jones’ Locker, a place no man before him had stood alive, if alive he truly be. And somewhat wealthy, since Barbossa'd been so wroth he hadn't stripped Bill of his baubles and purse before he'd tossed him overboard. Much good this would do Bill -- even without the weight, Bill couldn't swim a stroke. Like most seamen, he considered it no use but to prolong a lost man's suffering, and Jack had never been able to talk him into learning it.

So, the choices were simple: stay where he was, or walk out. In any direction, he was bound to reach land eventually. And though the curse had taken much from him, he still had the light.....if he could reach it.

He walked. No use to rest, he felt neither fatigue nor surcrease. He could barely feel the mud under his feet, or the rock when he climbed it. Light sometimes danced around him as fish made their own, as if they'd grown weary as he of the darkness. Yet they stayed in their home waters, and he traveled on.

Once he came to a most marvelous sight, a mer-people's town buried beneath the bottom of the ocean. Odd chimneys from unseen houses belched foulness into the water that even he could smell, and strange livestock scurried everywhere. Bill had no idea why, with the entire ocean to play in, mermen and mermaids would build under the mud. Since he had no luck digging down to ask them, he eventually left.

Some rare times he got high enough that he saw the sun through the water, and he thought land was near. But the bottom nearly always sloped down again before the surface was reached. Just once, he walked up into the air, only to find himself on an isolated sandbar. He spent the rest of the day enjoying the sunlight and blue sky, and later watched the sunset. But night brought moonrise to show him his bones, and high tide.....he moved on.

In the dark monotony, he kept his sanity with thoughts of happier times. Cap'n Sparrow was no doubt properly dead by now, his single shot splattering his brains across the sand. Yet Bill had many a fine hour's distraction remembering the pleasures of Jack's fine pego, his tight arse, and his wicked, wicked mouth.

His beautiful wife Molly, with her long, curly red hair -- and her short, curly red hair. She was a lusty wench, and no mistake! If the lure of the sea (and, to be honest, the seamen) hadn't called him away, there'd've been no better woman to share his life with. She and his young son Will would live well for a while on the loot he'd sent along with the coin. Barbossa'd never get to them, not if he spent years.....

A sudden, horrible thought reached up out of the darkness and snagged Bill's heart: Barbossa _**had**_ years. And nothing else to do in them.

Bill picked up his pace, new urgency driving him through the darkness. He'd been a fool, a thrice-damned fool! He could've fed the cursed coin to a passing shark, or dropped it down a volcano's throat, but instead he'd marked his son with it! Too much to hope that Barbossa would find the coin and go on his way, not with Bootstrap Bill's wife and son to take an extra bit of vengance on.

Once he reached land he could book passage on a fast ship to England. Bill didn't know how long it had been, but with luck it was long enough that he wouldn't be recognized as a pirate. He only needed to get to Molly and Will and get them out of England. Maybe the Colonies, he could take them inland, away from the sea.....

More time passed, more muck beneath his feet, more sand -- then air again. A cloudy night had kept him from realizing he was near the surface, but now he was on land, with a port in sight. He ran along the beach, there was no time to lose---the clouds moved aside, letting the moonlight hit him, and he skidded to a halt. One look at his skeletal visage and the townfolk would run screaming. He'd have to wait till sunrise, book passage on the next ship to England. Or even toward England.

He paced along the beach, feeling the sand under his feet and the air in his lungs. He had no idea how long it had been since he'd been above water, but it was good to feel the wind on his face.....wait, he felt the wind?

He looked down at his hands, and saw them whole in the moonlight. The curse was broken. He was too late.

=======================

He tried anyway. He went home, prayed at Molly's grave, asked after Will. No one could tell him more than that Will had gone looking for his father, and none knew where. Months later he was sitting at table in a tavern in Tortuga. Barbosa's lot would come through Tortuga eventually, and then Bill would have vengance for his son. In the meantime, the rum warmed his gut, the food was rich and good, the company.....he hadn't the heart for it. None of it mattered. They were all of them gone, Molly, Will, Jack.....

"Bill? Bootstrap Bill Turner, can it be you?"

"Jack! Cap'n Jack Sparrow! I thought you were dead!"

"I thought the same of you, you scallywag! And where's your manners? Aren't you going to offer your Captain some rum?"

"I am indeed! Rum!" he called to the serving wench, "more rum here!" A trice, and a filled mug appeared in front of Jack. "So tell the tale: how'd you get off that island?"

"There's naught to tell. A rope braided from the hair off my balls, a couple of turtles -- it's an old story. Of more recent events -- you've noted the curse is lifted?"

"Aye, that I have. Jack, what do you know of my son?"

"Young Will? I couldn't've done it without him! Took a bit of doing -- he's a journeyman blacksmith now, the spitting image of you, though he wears his hair short -- truly, you haven't aged a day. You seem a bit peaked though, are you well?"

" _ **Jack!**_ " Bill fairly roared, "My _**son!**_ "

"Oh yes, Will. Well, Barbossa and the rest finally found your coin, round the lovely neck of Will's light'o'love. You went down too soon to know, but to break the curse required not just the treasure, but blood paid from every man who partook of it. Since you weren't available---"

"---they needed my son."

"The child of your blood, yes. They didn't know whether a son or a daughter, so they took Elizabeth for yours."

"But the curse is broken. Will's blood....."

"Shed by his own hand, right after I'd plugged Barbossa with the single shot he'd left me with when he marooned me. The rest who lived were captured. Met the hangman by now, bless their mutinous little black hearts."

"Will _**lives?!?**_ "

"Of course he lives! Haven't I been saying that? When I left Port Royal, he'd just asked Elizabeth's hand in marriage. She'd said yes, of course. I'd have stayed for the wedding, but there was this small matter of a rope....."

"He lives! My son lives!" Bill jumped up and danced a jig around the table. He reached Jack, took his face in both hands, and planted a kiss on his lips to the raucous approval of the crowed. "Rum for the house! Drink to my son!"

"That's the spirit, Bill! To Will Turner! And myself, of course!"

"Jack, you crazy bastard! Tell me everything!"

Several hours and mugs of rum later, Jack had told Bill everything. "So that's it then. They're quite taken with each other, both ignoring my considerable charms. I'm sorry to say this Bill, but he's practically a eunuch. Only looks to women. A bit callow for my tastes anyway, not when I remember his sire."

"Can't say I'm sorry to hear it. I'd've been jealous."

"Now Bill, you were never the dog-in-the-manger sort. Speaking of which, with the curse over and all.....unless the rum's got you down."

"Like hell! It's been over decade, and never a proper plowin' in all that time."

"Well then. Best we head back to the Pearl. It's always better on the water, and you'll be wanting our old berth."

"Aye, that I would." Bill dropped some silver on the table for the drinks, and they got unsteadily to their feet. Arm in arm, singing bawdily at the top of their lungs, they wove their way to the docks, found the Black Pearl, and staggered up the gangway. Most of the crew was ashore, but Mr. Cotton watched gape-mouthed as Jack and Bill worked their way back to the cabin.

They tumbled into the narrow bunk, and Jack took the opportunity for another kiss. "Welcome home, Bill."

"Home. That's good to hear. Now, welcome me proper."

Jack grinned and obeyed his mate.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments also welcome at [kickair8p.dreamwidth.org/26331.html](http://kickair8p.dreamwidth.org/26331.html)


End file.
